


Bat signal? What bat signal?

by clawmachines



Category: Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Happy, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Bottom Bruce Wayne, Café Triste, Flirting, Fluff, JUST KISS ALREADY, M/M, Sassy Alfred Pennyworth, Secret Relationship, Shy Bruce Wayne, Smut, TWO IDIOTS, We needed more Juce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24929437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clawmachines/pseuds/clawmachines
Summary: Takes place during/after the Cafe Triste scene in The Enemy Within. Bruce decides to ignore the bat signal, and things go from there.Y'all I just want everyone to have a good life lmao. Expect a metric ton of fluff and happily ever afters.
Relationships: John Doe & Bruce Wayne, John Doe/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 85
Kudos: 242
Collections: These helps when I feel uneasy, bottom!Bruce





	1. Chapter 1

“Your face... has all the... face-like qualities one looks for in a, uh. Face.”

Bruce’s attention faded from John’s statement as he glanced at the cloudy, pre-dawn sky. It was the bat signal. He cursed mentally and, for the first time, decided to ignore it. He figured, it’s reasonable to believe Batman would miss the signal once in awhile... Gordon would understand. John asked for his help. He’s more important right now.

“‘Harley?’ I lobbed you a perfect pitch. You gonna swing or what?” John said, trying to get Bruce’s attention.

“Yeah, sorry,” Bruce said, and he tried to wave away the guilt. “Um... could you say that again, actually?”

John sighed theatrically and repeated himself. Bruce had no idea what to say.

“That’s really observant of ya,” Bruce replied, with Harley’s Brooklyn accent. “John,” he continued in his own voice, “Maybe be a little more specific. What qualities do you like about Harley’s face?”

“I guess it’s not quite... the features of her face,” John started. “It’s more of... Ok.” He shifted forward. “Harley,” he said, addressing Bruce. “Your eyes — no, your smile — Hm. When you smile, your eyes... crinkle a bit, at the edges. It makes my heart skip a beat. And the way you lift an eyebrow when something surprises you is so... overwhelming. Just an Eyebrow! So, surely, you understand why... why even looking at you. I can’t really focus.” He laughed nervously.

Bruce smiled shyly. Did his eyes crinkle, too? “John... that’s really sweet. Thank you.”

“Buddy, you forgot to do the voice that time.”

Bruce quickly took a sip of his coffee, trying desperately to keep his eyebrow from raising.

“Oh, oh, I know!” John drummed the table with his hands. “Flirting! Pick-up lines. You’ve got to have some real hard-hitters.”

“Pick-up lines? Not really. I think they can come off a little forced.”

John took a thoughtful sip of his drink. “Really... Huh. What am I supposed to do, then?”

“Man, this is tough,” Bruce muttered. John seemed to think there was some sort of script everyone was meant to follow, and he just didn’t have a copy of it yet. Bruce shook his head. “John, I really wish I could give you a straight answer, but... flirting, conversation in general, it takes practice. It takes improvisation.”

John looked discouraged for a moment, but his smile snapped back.

“That’s fine! I can do improv. C’mon, Bru— uh, Harley,” he laughed, “Say something, anything!”

Bruce bit back the urge to say “something, anything!” and drew inspiration from their drinks. Harley had been pretty flirty with that slushie when they had first met, that could work. He cleared his throat.

“How ‘bout ya show me how well you can suck that straw?” Bruce asked with Harley’s voice, looking down at the table, cringing at himself. He literally just said pick-up lines are forced, John’s definitely going to get confused. Bruce glanced up. John was giggling, his face reddening slightly.

“Time-out, so, first of all,” John took a breath. “I wish she would say that to me,” he said in a dazed, low voice. “Alright,” he continued with his usual excited voice, “Time-in. No, time-out again. Do you think I should say something back, or actually, you know. Suck?” His voice wavered at the end with a laugh.

Bruce tried to remain a neutral party; he had to let John decide for himself what to do. He’s his own person.

“Wait wait wait,” John blurted out when Bruce was about to reply. “I’ve gotta choose. Right?”

Bruce smiled, glad that John said so himself.

“Yes! Score one for me. Time-in!” All traces of upbeat energy erased from John’s face and was replaced with smooth confidence. John lifted his cup. Looking into Bruce’s eyes, he slowly wrapped his lips around the straw, taking a long suck and letting out a appreciative moan. Then he held the drink to Bruce’s lips and said in a low voice, “Your turn. I need a preview before I decide to take you home.”

Bruce’s breath hitched. John wasn’t pulling the drink away, so he leaned forward, trying to give John a chance to break character. John held strong. Neither broke eye contact as Bruce continued to lean forward until he could take a sip. John murmured, “it’s good, right? You like that?”

Bruce nodded shakily.

“I said, do you like that?”

“I like it,” he managed to whisper.

“Brucie!” John said exasperatedly. “You forgot the voice again! Darn it! We were doing really well!”

Bruce tried to steady his breathing. Is John doing this on purpose? God, his heart can’t take much more.

“This caffeine is getting me really hyped up,” John said, standing from his seat. “Let’s walk and talk. Lots more questions! Let’s go, buddy!”


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce hastily downed the rest of his espresso as John pulled him up from his seat. John slurped the last of his drink and tossed it on the ground behind him; he made a beeline towards a nearby public park. Bruce was struggling to keep up since he had to pick up John’s litter. He sped up until they were walking side-by-side.

Early-morning joggers passed them periodically. The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, but the sky had begun to lighten.

“I’m so glad we’ll be able to see the sunrise together! It’s great practice for me and Harley,” John said eagerly. “They’re known to be pretty romantic, I’ve heard. Waking up together after... a long night.” He giggled. “Just walking around is fine, too, of course. Not EVERYTHING has to be, uh... POW-POW!” He had mimed shooting pistols, his hands near his crotch, and started laughing. A passing jogger took that moment to speed up. Bruce winced in second-hand embarrassment.

“That’s a good thought, John,” he said encouragingly. Always a teaching moment with this guy. “Relationships are emotional as well as physical. I’m glad you’re not solely motivated by the, um, ‘pow’ factor.”

“It reeeeally is motivating, though, huh, buddy?” John elbowed Bruce with a wink.

“You would know, since you’re such a ladykiller,” Bruce teased. John’s smirk split as he laughed again.

“Not to brag or anything... I Have had my share of... experience. But you’re Bruce Wayne!” He stopped walking and gestured at Bruce, arms outstretched and hands flailing like a cheerleader. “Playboy extraordinaire! Your bedposts must be notched to oblivion.” He continued walking, looking at the ground a bit wistfully.

“Well...” Bruce began. John perked up. “Not to oblivion,” Bruce admitted. “Rumors run rampant when it comes to celebrity.”

John stopped walking again, making Bruce glance and double back. John was staring with mouth agape.

“No way,” he said after what seemed like minutes. “I don’t believe it for a second. You? I mean, WOW. You’re the most handsome guy I’ve ever met!” He grinned and resumed walking. “Surely women throw themselves at you day after day. Men, too, I’d bet.”

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I dunno, I’m just... I guess I’m not really into one night stands anymore...” John was still looking at him in disbelief.

“Why not?”

Bruce sighed, trying to find the words. He wasn’t usually one to give details on intimacy, but John was so easy to talk to. “It got old waking up alone.”

“Ha! You’re definitely a sunrise guy, then. Me, too. Let’s get in some more practice while we watch.” John hurried off the concrete path and sat on some grass, facing the sun. Bruce sat next to him.

“Practice with what, puddin’?” Bruce said, mimicking Harley. John nearly jumped out of his skin.

“JEEZ! I thought she was really here,” John choked with a hand over his heart. Bruce let out a hearty laugh.

“Sorry, I can stop.”

“No, no, keep it up. Otherwise I might get the idea that WE’RE on a date,” John laughed nervously. Bruce cleared his throat.

“Yeah...” Bruce said, hoping he wasn’t blushing. He kept forgetting that they weren’t on one already.

The sky started to shine with oranges and pinks as the sun rose over the horizon. Bruce leaned back on his hands.

“John, um...” Bruce started, trying to be subtle, “This is a good time to... to hold hands. With Harley. If you and Harley were here, instead of us.”

John grinned. “Yes! Brilliant! Thanks, Bruce!” He slapped his hand onto Bruce’s and gripped it.

“And, maybe, if you and Harley were here together,” Bruce continued, “we — um. You two. Could get a little closer?”

“You’re good at this,” John said, impressed. He scooted nearer, loosening his grip on Bruce’s hand to lace their fingers together. John chuckled and squeezed his hand. “It’s... it’s alright if you don’t do the accent anymore,” John said quietly, laying his head on Bruce’s shoulder. He was smiling and watching the sky. Bruce tried and failed to suppress a grin. They stayed close together in silence until the sun had fully risen, neither of them thinking about the sunrise at all.

Bruce wanted to continue their excursion (he was still a little confused by this situation and decided to stick to that descriptor) but didn’t know where to go from here. Maybe it was a good time to end it for now.

“Hey, John?” Bruce said, getting a small “hm?” from John. “Should we head home?”

John shot up from Bruce’s shoulder with a gasp.

“A sleepover?!” he shouted with a grin.

“John, it’s like seven in the morning—“I brought my toothbrush with me! Oh, this is great, I have more questions. Can we go right now? Please?”

Bruce sighed but couldn’t help smirking. “Sure, let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

John was thoroughly impressed by Bruce’s car. He had to sit on his hands in order to stop himself from touching everything. Bruce wasn’t used to having a passenger. All he could think to say was “Is the temperature okay” (it was), and “Do you want any music” (John declined, preferring to listen to the car and traffic; he hadn’t ridden in a front seat before).

Alfred’s name popped up on the console and Bruce declined the call with a voice message, saying “Alfred, my friend John and I will be over soon, please prepare some breakfast for us.” He hated hanging up on Alfred, but he didn’t want to risk John knowing anything about Bruce being undercover. Hopefully Al was just checking in. It had been a long night, after all.

John, still looking out the window, asked, “Who’s Alfred?”

“He’s my butler.”

John snorted.

“What’d I say?”

“Butt-ler,” John muttered with a snicker.

Bruce rolled his eyes but felt himself smiling anyway.

“I didn’t know butlers could cook, too,” John added. “The ones on TV just hold open the front door, announce dinner, answer to a little bell from the boudoir... Never heard of one that can make breakfast.”

“Well, he’s a talented guy. He takes good care of me.”

They sat in silence for a few moments and Bruce turned onto a private pathway, heading up to the Wayne Manor.

“Alright, here it is,” Bruce said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Wait,” John said, freeing his hands from beneath his rump to place both of them on Bruce’s forearm. Bruce glanced between John’s hands and his face, waiting for John to continue. “Can I ask something? About Alfred?”

“Um... sure thing,”

“Can he put whipped cream between each pancake in the stack, instead of just on top? No one ever puts enough whipped cream. Some places don’t even Have whipped cream.” He looked disgusted by the thought.

“Yes, John. I’ll let him know about the whipped cream.” Bruce chuckled to himself and got out of the car, moving to John’s side to open the door for him.

“Ooh, such a gentleman,” John said, holding onto Bruce’s upper arm and placing his cheek against it. He giggled and let go when Bruce turned away shyly. “Sorry! I get it, I get it, you’re just showing me how to woo a lady.”

Bruce was grateful that he had turned because his face had dropped with disappointment. He assumed that, since John said Bruce could stop the Harley impression, they were just being themselves now. But... it looks like John was pretending again.

“We, uh... goin’ in?” John said, poking at Bruce’s back to nudge him towards the door. Bruce nodded, forcing himself to smile and walk forward. He might as well make the most of it. He paused when they reached the doorway.

“I have another Harley tip,” Bruce said, trying to sound confident.

“Go for it, pal!”

“After your date is done, you walk her to her door, like we just did; and if, um, if the date went well, then you might want to, uh...”

“Hug?” John input helpfully.

“Yeah! Yes, hug.” Bruce bopped his fists against his thighs, glancing around. Damn. Thought John would say “kiss” instead. Should he... or...?

“Good tip! Thanks, Bruce!” 

“You’re welcome,” he said, deciding he better just go in, and he reached for the doorknob.

“Wha—? You’re not gonna show me?” John asked, confused.

Bruce let his hand drop. What in the world is going on between them?

“You know how to hug, John, you’ve hugged me before,” Bruce said flatly. John folded his arms. Is he pouting? Seriously?

“Maybe I want to hug you again,” John said, looking away.

“Well maybe I wanted you to want to hug me again,” Bruce said with frustration. He mentally face-palmed for not thinking before speaking.

“Maybe I wanted you to want me to want to hug you again!” John practically shouted.

Alfred swung open the doors for them with a proper “welcome to Wayne Manor,” almost failing to mask his surprise at John and Bruce’s behavior. John immediately perked up and strolled in as if he and Bruce hadn’t been yelling at each other.

Alfred raised his eyebrows at Bruce, who was still standing outside, trying to calm himself down. He wanted to dismiss Alfred with a “I’ll talk later,” but stopped himself.

“I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier,” he said quietly. “He’s a little... unpredictable.”

“‘Unpredictable?’” Alfred sputtered. He allowed Bruce to come in and closed the front doors. “Bruce, I was calling because I heard about the signal.”

Bruce blanched. Should he pretend he didn’t know?

“You didn’t miss it because of him, did you?” Alfred continued. Bruce was looking behind Alfred’s shoulder at John, who seemed to be entranced by all of the fancy decor. John finished admiring a vase and suddenly sped around a corner. “Bruce?” Alfred said, getting in his line of vision.

“Sorry, Al, I — I better go get him, can we talk later?” Bruce started to rush away before Alfred could respond.

Alfred sighed and regained his composure. He made his way to the kitchen for a strong cup of tea.

“Honestly,” Alfred said to the empty room. He took a sip of tea and exhaled. The array of breakfast food in front of him was bound to get cold. Alfred served himself some bacon and eggs, muttering about ungrateful boys and the importance of a good night’s rest.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce rounded the corner to see John head into the den. He followed, and John turned around to smile sheepishly.

“Can’t help but snoop,” John said. “Not that I’ve seen much at all. Didja have to follow so quick?”

“Just didn’t want you to miss breakfast,” Bruce said.

“Oh! Right!” John said, but continued to walk around the room, inspecting anything remotely interesting.

“Um... you are hungry, right? Pancakes? Whipped cream...?”

“Yeah, but do you mind bringing it in here?” John said a bit listlessly as he picked up a framed photo. Bruce hesitated, wondering if he should let John look. He couldn’t think of a reason why not, so why did he feel so discomforted by it?

“Sure, I’ll... go get you a stack. Of pancakes. Be right back.” He headed to the kitchen. Maybe John doesn’t want to be around Alfred. He looked back, expecting to see John sneaking out of the den, but didn’t see anything.

“Bruce, how nice of you to join me,” Alfred said with more than a hint of sarcasm as Bruce arrived. “Is John no longer hungry?”

“No, he is. He just wanted me to bring him a plate so we can eat in the den,” Bruce explained. Alfred looked a bit confused, but didn’t reply. “I... don’t really know why.” Bruce put a pancake on a plate, added whipped cream, stacked another, and continued until there were six on the plate. Alfred watched silently, his expression growing repulsed.

“Would the gentleman care for a drop of tea in a cup of sugar?” Alfred asked with a grimace. “Perhaps a bottle of maple syrup with a straw?”

“Hey, we don’t judge in Wayne Manor,” Bruce reprimanded playfully. “Thanks for preparing all this. I promise, we’ll talk about the signal once John leaves.” He smiled apologetically, and to his relief, Alfred smiled back, though he had a reproachful twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, yes. We will talk,” he said and took a sip of tea.

Bruce paused and decided to deal with... whatever that meant... soon. He quickly tossed a scone on another plate and brought that and the stack of pancakes back to the den.

“Alright, here we are,” Bruce said as he pushed open the door to the den with his hip. John was making himself at home in one of the armchairs, where he had a good view of the photos. He looked pretty happy. Bruce handed him the plate and sat down across from him.

“Thanks, Brucie!” John said, attention drawn to his breakfast. “Look at that whipped cream!” John lifted the plate to admire the amount. “Applied artistically,” he said in a posh accent, and in his normal voice said “kudos to the butt-ler.”

Bruce stopped himself from taking credit. It didn’t really matter, as long as John liked it. He munched on his scone, trying to think of something to talk about. It’s a wonder John asked Him for conversation advice. What John lacked in tact, he made up for with energy and interesting points of view. Bruce let himself watch John for a moment, and he was pleased to see John eating with fervor. Sheesh, he was almost done already.

Moments later, John set his empty plate down and sighed with content, sinking in the armchair and looking up at Bruce. Bruce smiled awkwardly mid-chew.

“I can see where you get your good looks,” John said suddenly. Bruce was in the middle of swallowing and the odd comment made him choke a little bit.

“Wh—“ he coughed “—at?” He coughed again. John gestured at the family photos on the mantle.

“Your dad...” John said, and purred flirtatiously. “Just sayin’,” he added with a shrug when Bruce coughed again.

Bruce focused on the last few bites of his scone. He felt John staring at him. What did John expect him to say to that? Was he simply giving a compliment in his own strange way, or was he trying to... flirt with him? Bruce finished his scone and set the plate down.

“You’re so Quiet!” John said with a laugh. “Did I touch a nerve?”

“No,” Bruce said, attempting nonchalance. John squinted. “Wanna play pool?” he asked, quickly standing up before John could answer. He strode to the other side of the room and started setting up the table.

“I guess so,” John said and got up. “I’m not very good.” He picked up a cue from the case on the wall. “Only thing I’m sure of is that the 8-ball tells the future.” He plucked the 8-ball from the triangle form and shook it. He held it to his chest pleadingly and said “Will Brucie ever allow himself a fit of laughter?” He peered at the bottom and in a grave tone said “‘My sources say no.’” He grinned mischievously at Bruce’s stern expression and set it back in place.

“I can laugh,” Bruce said unconvincingly.

“Chuckles don’t count.”

“I—“

“Snorting out a bit of air through your nose while you smile doesn’t count, either.”

Bruce gripped his pool cue. “Okay, fine, I don’t laugh much,” he admitted, and caught the chalk that John tossed his way. He rubbed it on the tip of the cue. “Maybe you’ll hear it one day.” John beamed in response.

Bruce lifted the triangle from the set of billiard balls and positioned himself to hit the cue ball. He aimed and knocked it skillfully, causing the balls to scatter around the table. He heard John whisper “wow!”

“I can never hit the cue right,” John said. “I try but the balls kinda just...” He held his hand in the air, palm down, then splayed his fingers slightly. “Not enough STRENGTH I guess,” he chuckled. “Can you teach me how?”

“Of course,” Bruce said, and reset the balls. He moved to aim again, about to explain how to place your hand on the table, but paused when he heard John start to speak.

“I’m more of a... hands-on learner,” John said with an innocent smile.


	5. Chapter 5

“‘Hands-on?’” Bruce repeated, still in position to aim at the cue ball. Oh, boy. Where is John going with this?

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what I mean,” John said, setting his pool cue against the table and moving behind Bruce, who stiffened. John rested himself against Bruce’s back, as if he was spooning him, and placed his arms on top of Bruce’s. “You do this,” he said, gripping Bruce’s hand. “That way I know how to stand.”

Bruce felt his face heat up as John stayed in place a little longer than necessary. John’s hips curving against his rear was... intimate, to say the least. “Um— yeah— yeah I can do that,” Bruce said too loudly. He stood up and turned to see John’s sweet smile, as if he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. John grabbed his cue and bent over the table, mimicking Bruce’s earlier posture. Bruce was hesitating.

“What’s the hold-up, buddy?” John asked, looking over his shoulder at Bruce.

Bruce tried to look anywhere but John’s ass, but it was... it was Right There! John smirked at him and Bruce almost let out a squeak of panic. He’s just bent over, Bruce thought. It’s no big deal. John needs help with aiming. He’s not into you, he’s into Harley. Only Harley. Now... just... think about baseball or something.

Bruce let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding in. He placed his arms around John, and tried to leave some space between their hips and torsos, but John happened to back up to close the space (which was definitely accidental, Bruce reasoned). Bruce remembered he had to be saying something.

“Your stance is pretty good,” Bruce said. He adjusted the placement of John’s elbow and rotated his hand a bit. “This angle helps with the strike.” He gripped John’s right hand and moved the cue back to demonstrate the more controlled movement. “See?”

“Mm-hmm,” John responded. He shifted his hips against Bruce’s groin, and Bruce grasped John’s hand a bit harder with shock.

Bruce shut his eyes and imagined an umpire making a call. Calm. Down, he told himself.

“Go ahead and try,” Bruce said, his voice wavering.

John pulled back his arm and took the shot. The cue ball knocked against the others and they scattered impressively.

“WOO-HOO! It worked!” John exclaimed, standing up straight and pumping his fist triumphantly.

“I knew you had it in you.”

John handed Bruce Bruce’s discarded pool cue. John brought his fingers to his chin and tapped it thoughtfully. “I bet if I were to do that with Harley, it’d REALLY rev her up,” he said with an excited grin.

“I... wouldn’t be surprised by that,” Bruce said. So, John Was still thinking of her. But if that were the case... wouldn’t he have wanted to practice wooing Harley by showing Me how to play, instead of the other way around? God, this guy is gonna get me sent back to Arkham if he keeps this up.

“Got any more saucy tricks of the trade?” John asked, leaning a hip against the pool table.

Bruce looked at the ceiling as if he was trying to recall something, but he was actually thinking, At least it will be nice to see Harvey and Oz when I end up in Hell.

“Ah, thought of one,” Bruce said, then slapped the pool table and pointed at John with a grin. “You’re gonna love this.”

John’s eyes lit up and he grinned widely.

“Poles,” Bruce said simply, presenting his cue.

“Poles?”

“Poles.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You know... long, hard, wooden... They can be used suggestively, is what I’m saying.” Bruce picked up some chalk and slowly squeaked it against the tip of the cue, side-eyeing John and raising his eyebrows. John looked on, silently intrigued. “Ideally, Harley would be the one doing this in order to get You excited... but it probably goes both ways,” Bruce said, trying to sound sincere. He wondered if he could ask the Devil for a pair of bat wings.

John took the chalk and applied it to the cue slowly. He watched for Bruce’s reaction as he did so. “Like that?” Bruce nodded in response.

“And now, just... improvise,” Bruce said. He folded his arms and faced John, and Bruce was pleased to see John looking nervous for once. Two can play at this game.

“Uh...” John was at a loss. He tossed the cue between his hands in thought. He stopped and hid behind the pole, shrugging awkwardly. Bruce stepped forward and gently wrapped his hand around one of John’s. He stared at John with lidded eyes, and guided John’s hand down the pole. He started slowly, sensually dragging their fists up and down, then began to quicken his pace. John’s lips had started to part slightly, and his face was flushing. John’s eyes flickered between their fists and Bruce’s eyes, then his gaze began to linger on Bruce’s mouth. As soon as John started to lean forward, Bruce let go of John’s hand and stepped back.

John trembled a bit and leaned against the pool table.

“Oh,” John breathed. He swallowed, and jumped when his pool cue brushed near his groin. “Welp, gotta go,” he said unexpectedly, and virtually threw the pool cue away from himself.

“Why?” Bruce sounded concerned, but he was obviously holding back a grin.

“Something popped up.” John walked out of the room and a moment later, Bruce heard the front doors open and shut.


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce immediately dropped his composure and staggered to one of the armchairs to sit. He steadied his breathing and rested his forehead on his palm, then started to chuckle. Soon he was laughing out loud, hiding his face in his cupped hand. A few minutes later he leaned back in the chair, still giggling periodically.

“Oookay,” he said to himself after calming down, and he placed his chin on his fist, staring at nothing in particular. Bruce’s face grew serious.

_What the hell is going on with me right now,_ Bruce thought. _It was like I was watching myself from outside my body. I mean, it was fun. It was... exciting. He seemed so turned on... The way he looked at me..._

“Shit.”

John leaning forward as if to kiss him, then scampering away, his pants tented — Bruce could no longer deny that None of this could be about Harley. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, gripping his neck as he put his head between his knees in anguish.

“Shiiit.”

“Sir?”

Bruce sat up in shock.

“YES?” he said to Alfred, his voice a higher pitch than usual. He cleared his throat and said “yes?” with a more natural tone.

“I heard the front doors... Has John left already?”

“Yeah, he, um... he had to take care of something.” Alfred glanced at Bruce’s jiggling leg and frowned, but seemed fine with the answer.

“Is it a good time to bring up our talk about missing the bat signal?” Alfred asked. Bruce felt a bit cornered and hoped that this wouldn’t actually be a lecture. He loved Alfred to death, but Bruce felt like a naughty kid when Alfred gave him fatherly advice. He had to grin and bear it, though. Alfred had Bruce’s best interests at heart.

“Sure, Al,” Bruce said, and gestured at the chair across from himself to invite Alfred to sit.

“Thank you.” He folded his hands in his lap. “Before I start lecturing — I’m kidding, Bruce, don’t look so sheepish,” Alfred said with a little smile, “is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Bruce grimaced at how obvious his expressions became when it was just Alfred around. He didn’t speak right away. There was a lot to tell, but nothing about the bat signal. He couldn’t lie to Al... Bruce decided to bite the bullet.

“I have a crush on John.” Surprising himself, he managed to look Alfred in the eyes when he said it, but... couldn’t he have found a better word than “crush?” He sounded so childish.

Alfred looked at the floor between them and nodded. He looked up, leaned forward and patted Bruce’s knee knowingly. “Pardon the bluntness, but it’s very obvious,” Alfred said with a laugh. Bruce groaned with embarrassment.

“Just to you, I hope,” Bruce replied, feeling lighter now that it was off his chest.

“That may be true, unless anyone else has seen the way you smile at your phone when he texts you.”

“Oh, God,” Bruce said, once again putting his head between his knees, but he let himself laugh. “Let’s move on to the lecture, I beg you.”

“Not so easy, I’m afraid,” Alfred said, relaxing in his chair. “You might have spared yourself had you not confessed so quickly.” He quirked an eyebrow at Bruce.

“‘Confessed?’” Bruce scoffed. “Were you planning an interrogation?”

“Eventually,” Alfred shrugged. “Oh, my goodness, Bruce, you must know I’m teasing,” he chuckled as he adjusted his glasses. “You’re not in trouble, my boy.”

“Alright, I believe you.” Bruce leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, grinning. He placed his head against the headrest and stared at the ceiling, then exhaled through his nose; his grin faded. “I know it’s... it’s stupid.” Bruce closed his eyes and continued more quietly. “It’s really stupid. And dangerous.” He paused for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and then opening them. “If we got together... our relationship would have a foundation of lies. All of them from me.” He shook his head and faced Alfred again. “And I don’t even know if likes me back,” he said with a derisive snort, smirking, but Alfred noticed that the side of Bruce’s mouth had begun to quiver. Bruce rested his elbows on his knees and focused on the empty fireplace, too ashamed to look at Alfred.

Alfred let them sit in silence for a little while, allowing Bruce time to voice any more thoughts, but it seemed as though he had finished for the time being.

“Oh, Bruce,” Alfred said with concern. He stood and put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Come on and stand,” Alfred requested. Bruce complied and Alfred embraced him, loving and pure. Bruce sunk his chin over Alfred’s shoulder, hugging him back. “Life is never kind to you,” Alfred said, his voice thick with sorrow. Bruce blinked back tears and after a few too-short moments, he pulled away. He smiled feebly at Alfred.

“I needed that,” Bruce said with a dry chuckle, and he wiped any stray tears away from his face. Alfred nodded and guided Bruce out of the room with his hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

“Now about the bat signal...” Alfred started, and Bruce pretended to collapse in agony. Alfred pulled Bruce up, laughing heartily.


	7. Chapter 7

Alfred had led Bruce back to the kitchen, insisting that a scone was nowhere near enough breakfast for Bruce. Alfred made a scramble with potatoes, bits of bacon, eggs, and some cheese, much to Bruce’s delight. Alfred cleaned up as Bruce enjoyed his meal.

“Thank you,” Bruce said. “And you know, you’re wrong.”

“Beg pardon?” Alfred asked, pausing his dish-washing.

“You said life is never kind to me. But you’re right here.”

Alfred chuckled and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “You’re very charming,” he said with a smirk. With sincerity, he added “I appreciate that, Bruce.”

Bruce felt his phone buzz and checked the screen. It was a text from John.

> John
> 
> _Hey Brucie :D_

Alfred pursed his lips and stretched on his tip toes as if to spy on their conversation.

“Get out of here!” Bruce laughed and shooed him away.

“I wasn’t at all interested, anyway,” Alfred said in mock offense, and then he left the room.

> Bruce
> 
> _What’s up?_

It had only been about an hour since John left. He imagined John walking aimlessly and ending up lost, needing a ride back to his place.

> John
> 
> _Sorry for earlier_

Bruce waited, seeing the “...” on the screen. Then it stopped. Started. Stopped again. Bruce typed, and then paused, wondering if he should address their recent interactions or let it slide. He bit his lip and chickened out, choosing to send the message on its own.

> Bruce
> 
> _It’s okay_

> John
> 
> _I got a bit worked up :(_
> 
> John
> 
> _Did you?_

Bruce glanced behind himself to make sure Alfred wasn’t peeking around the corner, as if he’d even be able to see the phone from there. Bruce chewed his lip some more and set his phone down. He picked it up again and his thumb hovered over the on-screen keyboard.

> Bruce
> 
> _Yes_

It was a simple reply, but Bruce had had to shut his eyes to press the send key. His face was becoming red, and nothing had even happened yet. Bruce’s phone buzzed.

> John
> 
> _B)_

Bruce stared at the text, waiting for another “...” but nothing came. This guy... Bruce lightly smacked his forehead with his phone. What if he just likes to mess with me? Am I even special, or does he act this way with everyone? And why am I taking the bait?

Bruce sighed, stood, and washed his dishes.

Bruce wandered the halls of the manor and found himself in the library. He wasn’t in the mood for reading, but the musty smell of the books and the sunlight beaming in from the window always relaxed him. Bruce sat in a leather chair facing the window, his mind wandering. He propped up his feet on an ottoman and wondered if he and John really were friends... or has he already ruined it by being undercover for the Agency? He shifted in the chair to curl on his side. Was he friends with any members of the Pact? Could he ever be? Bruce’s eyes began to flutter shut, and he fell asleep.

A couple of hours later, Alfred was tapping Bruce awake.

“Bruce? Bruce, are you alright? Goodness, you’re drenched in sweat,” Alfred said when he saw Bruce open his eyes. Bruce gripped his head.

“Yeah, I’m fine... nightmares,” he explained. “Daymares,” he corrected when he remembered where and when he was. The memories of the dreams were fading, but he knew it had to do with betrayal, and murder, and fear... Bruce shuddered.

“Good,” Alfred said with relief. “I’m glad to have found you before you slept through lunch. One certainly forgets how easy it is to lose a person in this house.”

Bruce checked his watch and saw that it was half past noon.

“Normally I’d take you up on lunch, but I think I better freshen up,” Bruce said, touching his damp shirt and pulling a face.

“Understood. I believe I’ll stay in the library for a time.” Alfred walked to a shelf to peruse it. “Catch up on some reading.”

“Sounds fun,” Bruce said as he stood up. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He made his way to his bedroom.

* * *

After his shower, Bruce joined Alfred in the library. Now that he was clean and his mind was clear, he felt like picking up a book. Alfred had already fetched some lunch for Bruce, who snacked while he read; he and Alfred spent a few hours in each other’s company, reading to themselves, Alfred with a thriller and Bruce a sci-fi.

The grandfather clock chimed four o’clock. Alfred had already finished his book and had nodded off in his chair. Bruce hoped Alfred had been feeling better lately... he definitely needed more rest. Bruce placed a bookmark in his sci-fi and got up from his chair as quietly as possible. Before he left, he placed a throw blanket over Alfred’s lap.

Bruce headed to the bat cave. He was of course aware that caves were naturally damp and solemn, but today was the first time he felt unnerved by it. The echo of his footsteps were now eerie. The lit buttons of the batcomputer were like flashing eyes. Bruce put his hands in his pockets with a chill.

“Echo...” he said in an attempt to cheer himself up. His reverberating voice sounded dark and empty.

Bruce sat at the desk of the batcomputer and swiveled absent-mindedly. He itched to talk to someone. Anyone. A true friend, someone who knew his secrets and accepted them. A small voice in his head argued that he’ll always have Alfred. Bruce argued back that he knows, he knows... But it’s not the same.

Lucius. God, he missed Lucius.

Bruce looked up at the monitor to keep his tears at bay. He opened his intel on the Pact, first bringing up Mr. Freeze. Bruce thought he could see humanity in Freeze’s eyes. Freeze was actually quite easy to talk to, as long as Bruce knew what to steer the conversation towards. Plus, Freeze was motivated by love... His situation was tragic, and maybe he wasn’t all there, but he just wants to help his wife. Bruce clicked to the next member. Bane. Brutality radiated from the man’s glare. But there’s got to be something more to him. The lucha mask... it is similar to Batman’s cowl. Is Bane just playing a character? Bruce moved on to Harley. Okay, she’s pretty damn scary, but what if she’s just fed up with incompetence? She’s angry, Bruce told himself. She doesn’t know how to manage it. But is Batman any better? Next was John. John’s sincere smile made Bruce’s heart swell. How could someone look so sweet, yet be involved with criminals? With violence? With Arkham, of all places? Bruce looked at John’s photo for a minute longer and closed the program.

He leaned his chair back as far as it could go and turned the chair to face a cave wall.

Batman is good, he told himself. It’s what Gotham needs. It’s what I need.

He had often repeated this, but it was getting more and more difficult to be convinced. He sighed and got out of the chair. The day was dragging by, and Bruce was simply exhausted. He left the cave to go to bed early. Bruce texted Alfred that he planned to sleep, and please wake him if there’s even a chance the bat signal was lit. Bruce knew that he and Alfred were still going to have their talk, and he certainly didn’t want it to become a double scolding. He brushed the dread away to look forward to the comfy pajamas, silk sheets, and cushy pillow that awaited him.


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce opened his eyes and smiled in appreciation at his comfort. Can’t beat silk sheets. He felt fully rested for the first time in months. And that was why he panicked.

Bruce prayed that it was still early. He eased his attention to the alarm clock on the nightstand... and cursed.

He jumped out of bed, already pulling off his pajamas, and scampered to the closet to dress for work. He shoved his phone and wallet into his pockets and ran out the bedroom door while buckling his belt, his shoes dangling precariously by their laces from his mouth.

“Good heavens! What in the world?” Alfred exclaimed as Bruce zipped by him. Alfred slapped his own forehead, suddenly remembering. “Bruce! Your meeting! I’m so sorry, sir!” Alfred yelled after him.

“Nert yer ferlt, Erl! Shee yer lerter!” Bruce shouted back, muffled from clamping down on the shoelaces. He was already halfway out the front door and had about fifteen minutes to get there. He set the car on autopilot to tie his shoes, then finger-combed his hair as best as he could manage.

Bruce berated himself the whole way, though he was kind of impressed that he managed to sleep for... jeez, sixteen hours! Not to mention the nap! He hadn’t slept that long since he was a teenager. As soon as he was parked, he jogged to the front of Wayne Tower then practically skidded to a halt, growling with frustration. He forgot his briefcase. Bruce continued in, jogging once more. He waved to the front desk employees then got in the elevator. He hoped he’d be able to recall his notes on the new facility the company was planning to work with.

Bruce got to the meeting room ten minutes late. He took a deep breath and opened the door, peeking in, and he received a reproachful look from Regina who had had to start the meeting without him. He sat down and tried to look as polite as possible. Regina finished her statement to the rest of the employees and turned to Bruce.

“We waited a few minutes for you, but I had to get the meeting started. There are some back-to-backs,” Regina said, and although she sounded nice, Bruce wished she would lower her voice. He could feel the rest of them staring. “I went over the minutes from last week. You’re up.”

Bruce completely blanked. He stood up and cleared his throat.

“Thanks for your patience with me, everyone,” he started. “I...” he glanced behind himself, hoping to jog his memory with any notes fastened to the board. He saw a photo. Right! Yes, it was for a bank. Now what did the text say? “Um. Excuse me,” he said and turned completely around to study the more detailed notes. Bruce pretended not to notice Regina’s heavy sigh. Yes, the security system for the bank. With the new tech. Alright. Bruce turned back around feeling confident, but when he opened his mouth to continue, Regina stood up with a raised hand.

“Bruce, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ll lead today’s meeting,” she said, obviously annoyed. Bruce relaxed his face to avoid showing any offense.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he said smoothly with a hint of self-deprecation, trying to appeal to the rest of the employees’ emotions. They didn’t really seem to care. He sat back down, focusing hard to not to show any of the anger he felt towards Regina for reprimanding him. He took a breath and reasoned that she has a right to be upset. He should speak with her after the meeting and apologize. Maybe add that he doesn’t appreciate being scolded — no, it’s fine. It happens.

“With the newest technology developed by Mister... by the late Mr. Lucius Fox...” Regina paused for a moment and exhaled, her eyebrows pinched. “...we’ve become the ideal company to ensure the security of Gotham Capital Bank, scheduled to open in Q1 next year, and, should it go well, we may have the opportunity to secure many other buildings to come.” She pressed a button on a small remote to turn on the projector attached to the ceiling, which displayed a slideshow presentation. “Bruce, please shut off the lights for me,” Regina told him without even looking at him. Bruce did as he was told, but he felt degraded. There’s literally a button on her remote to turn the lights off. Bruce reasoned that she must be stressed out of her wits, but, did she have to take it all out on him?

The meeting continued, and the more Regina spoke the more he remembered. He really didn’t have to be here at this point, and there was another hour until they took a break. He was positive the rest of the group was thinking this all could have been an email, and Bruce made a mental note: Next time, just send everyone the slides to save a few hours. Then, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

If Bruce had been presenting the meeting, he would have called for a quick break. But since he’s not... Bruce thought back to leading Harvey’s press conference, back when they had wanted to improve Arkham Asylum. Even though Harvey had been speaking to the press at the time, Bruce was texting Alfred. Nobody knew that it was life-or-death, just that it was incredibly disrespectful. Also, Regina was already ticked off at him. That’s okay, he’ll just check the name. If it’s Alfred he’ll duck out and explain later. Bruce reached for his phone but only pulled it out once Regina had turned to point something out on a slide.

John.

Regina turned back to the table before Bruce had the nerve to preview the message itself. He wondered if he could excuse himself with a bathroom break. Wait, does he need to ask permission for that? Is everyone expected to hold it in until the official break? That doesn’t seem fair. He made another mental note: Let the employees piss whenever they please. Bruce felt another buzz, and curiosity took over. He got up from his chair, and of course, Regina stopped talking and stared straight at him.

“I, um... I’ll be right back,” he said, deciding not to give any specific explanation, in case he really did have to use the bathroom later. Regina rolled her eyes and began speaking to the room again. Good enough for Bruce. He left the room.

> John
> 
> _You free tonight_
> 
> John
> 
> _?_

Since Bruce had admitted to getting “worked up” earlier... John wouldn’t be very shocked if Bruce were to be a little coy, right?

> Bruce
> 
> _Depends. Are you asking me out?_

Bruce couldn’t hold back a smile at the disappearing-reappearing “...” that he assumed meant John was flustered.

> John
> 
> _Kinda_

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

> Bruce
> 
> _Wdym?_

> John
> 
> _Pact meeting 8pm Stacked Deck. Getting our drink on :D_

Bruce wilted a little since it wasn’t just John, but the thought of something so casual with the Pact intrigued him. He chuckled imagining Mr. Freeze in regular clothing. John was texting again.

> John
> 
> _Be my date, buddy?_

Bruce scoffed. John just had to add “buddy.” That one word to make the offer easily explained away as a joke, if Bruce were to ask. And he really wanted to ask. There was certainly chemistry between them, but the possibility that John was using Bruce for a thrill was disappointing. So... Bruce decided. He’ll match John 1 for 1. If John ever tries to say he was joking, Bruce can say the same. It would hurt, yes, but at least Bruce could take advantage. Oh, no. Take advantage? Not what he meant. He meant, reap the benefits. But if John ends up being sincere... Better not get too attached to that idea. Bruce looked back at his phone and smiled.

> Bruce
> 
> _I’ll pick you up at 7_

Bruce put his phone back in his pocket and headed to the elevator. Wait. Damnit. He turned on his heel and went back to the meeting room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aight i know it's cringey to have convos with the characters but i stg these dudes are making it so difficult for me
> 
> me with director's cap: bruce, you're in a meeting at wayne tower. you get a text from john.  
> bruce: ok  
> me: the text is saucy  
> john: hold up idk if i'd go in hot  
> me: fine the text is unclear if it's meant to be saucy but it piques bruce's curiosity  
> john: i can do that  
> me: bruce you reply to the text and  
> bruce: in front of everyone at the meeting??  
> me: well you're sitting down, people might not see you  
> bruce: you think i'm gonna risk that after harvey's press conference in the first game?  
> me, pinching bridge of nose in frustration: y'all. i'm trying to make this naughty and spicy.  
> john: should i send a dick pic?  
> me and bruce: NO  
> bruce: i think i better just check my phone outside instead  
> me: oh my god


	9. Chapter 9

After the meeting was over, Bruce sped to the elevator. Regina had her own problems, he didn’t need to speak with her privately. He was too excited for tonight.

Bruce arrived at the manor and immediately sought out Alfred.

“Hey, hi, Al — I need your advice,” Bruce said eagerly.

“Well, don’t you look cheerful! What’s going on?”

“I’m going out with the Pact tonight and I have no idea what to wear. Can you help me choose?”

Alfred paused, but said “I’d be happy to,” and they made their way to Bruce’s bedroom closet. “I assume you’re planning to gather some extra intel tonight, sir?”

“Hm? Oh! I guess I should do that, shouldn’t I?” Bruce said, a bit distracted. They got to the closet and he began to rifle through his clothing.

“You ‘guess?’ Bruce...” Alfred sounded uneasy. “I don’t want to discourage having a good time, but... please, focus on your main objective.”

Bruce pulled out a blazer and held it up to himself. “Do you think I should wear a collared shirt and tie with this? Or dress down and have, like... a hoodie underneath? Is that still cool?”

“Bruce, that was never ‘cool.’”

“Oh.”

Alfred sighed and selected a pair of dark wash jeans that went well with the slate gray blazer. “Sir, did you hear what I said about your mission?”

“Yeah,” Bruce replied, holding the blazer up to various sweaters to try and find a decent color. “And I will. Focus, that is. Navy or maroon?”

“Have you lost your mind?!” Alfred said loudly, causing Bruce to flinch back. “For pity’s— the blue, the light blue,” he pointed at it. “You want John to notice it matches your eyes, don’t you?”

Bruce’s blushed, and he took the sweater Alfred was referring to.

“Come to think of it, if you stay that red, your eyes will contrast nicely no matter what you wear.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said sarcastically.

“You’re quite welcome. When is this meet-up?”

“I’m picking up John at seven,” Bruce said, laying his outfit out on the bed.

Alfred blinked. “Well. I’m so glad we sprinted here. You’d better change right away or else you won’t be able to wait in a parking lot for four and a half hours.”

“Cut me some slack! I’m nervous,” Bruce said defensively.

“There, there,” Alfred laughed. “You have every reason to be. I can’t imagine how you must feel around those criminals, having to gain their trust, persuade them to confide in you... I don’t think I’d be able to do it,” Alfred said.

Bruce cringed with guilt. ”I won’t pretend all the lies are... enjoyable. But the worst part is, it comes naturally,” Bruce said, looking almost fearful. “I can be myself around you, Al. Everyone else, though... I just tell them what I think they want to hear.”

“We all tell white lies to protect others,” Alfred said gently. “Sometimes we use them to protect ourselves, too.”

“It’s different for me.”

“How do you mean?”

Bruce struggled to find the words, words that wouldn’t be hurtful or angry. What could he say to lift the mood again, to make Alfred stop looking so worried? He balled his fists in frustration upon realizing that he was suddenly trying to analyze Alfred of all people. He felt the urge to lash out, to say “it’s just different,” and dismiss Alfred. Instead, he took a deep breath and relaxed. Alfred must have noticed — he had stepped forward and patted Bruce’s arm.

“It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to conjure up some articulate explanation,” Alfred said with a reassuring smile, which made Bruce instantly feel better. “We can all stand to work on ourselves. Just keep in mind, your impulses do not define you. If they did, I doubt you’d find me very respectable.”

“...Do I want to know?” Bruce asked with a raised brow.

“Unlikely,” Alfred said. “Now, I’m sure you‘d like to get cleaned up, so I’ll leave you to it.” Alfred left the room and closed the doors behind himself.

Bruce chuckled to himself and entered the master bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you saw chapter 10 already, you're not crazy, i deleted it haha. I should have slept on it before posting. But! It will have illustrations now~~~~ when i post it agaaaain~~~~~ heh heh


	10. Chapter 10

Bruce finished up his shower and wrapped a towel around himself. He patted his damp hair, wondering if he should style it any differently for tonight. His hair was just long enough to be able to brush it forward for a short fringe look... Is it too try-hard...? He mussed it up again and parted it various ways. Bruce admitted defeat, for now, and walked over to his bed to sit and browse the news on his phone. That was the plan, anyway, but when he unlocked his phone, his messaging app was still up, and he was compelled to text John instead. He had more than enough time to read the news afterwards.

Yet, Bruce didn’t know how to start. He still intended to keep up with his “1 for 1” plan, but he didn’t want John to get tired of always initiating their conversations. Bruce decided to be casual. He stood up and snapped a picture of his laid-out clothing.

> Bruce  
> 
> 
> Bruce
> 
> _Oxfords or chukkas?_

That question should do fine. He really did want advice on the shoes. He sat back down and saw John was already replying.

> John
> 
> _:O! That outfit for me?_
> 
> John
> 
> _Chukkas sound tasty. Are they fried?_

Bruce smiled.

> Bruce
> 
> _They’re shoes. I’ll do chukkas thanks_

He got off the bed again and went to his shelf, which had far too many pairs of shoes. Bruce glanced around and grabbed a pair of dark gray laced boots. He held them up to the rest of the outfit and nodded — it went well together, actually. He wondered how John would look tonight.

> Bruce
> 
> _What are you wearing?_

Bruce walked into the bathroom to pick out a cologne. He hadn’t worn one in quite awhile. In his early twenties, he would wear them often, hoping to ensnare a partner for the night. He never really had a type, unless “challenge” classified as one. Man, woman, non-binary — it didn’t really matter to Bruce as long as they had a glint in their eye, daring him to step forward and sweet talk them into his bedroom. When he hit about... twenty-three? Twenty-four? sometime around then, he started to feel the loneliness set in around him when he woke up next to rumpled, now-cold sheets. It wasn’t fun anymore. The press kept up the illusion of his playboy reputation even after he had stopped the chase, as they had assumed his sudden nighttime absences were of a sexual nature, rather than his fighting crime. His phone buzzed.

> John

Bruce almost choked. He had to lean back against the bathroom counter to steady himself as he gawked at the image John had sent. When he forced himself to look away — he was overheating — he was able to think straight enough to register what he had texted before. He meant “what are you wearing” _to the bar..._ Bruce clutched his chest, thanking whoever watched down on him for this wonderful misunderstanding. He allowed himself to look at the photo again. John’s choice of pose was comically feminine, but God, did he pull it off well. Bruce zoomed in to admire every centimeter of the image. John’s skin was so pale... Would his skin become pinker if Bruce were there touching him? Bruce wished he could reach through the screen and place a hand on John’s thin hips. He imagined John taking a shuddering breath and pulling Bruce closer. Bruce’s thumb moved the image up, picturing himself kissing all along John’s torso and neck. Then he realized John might be wanting a photo from him, too.

He bit his lip, wondering if he should stay in the towel or grab a pair of boxers. His anxiety and proximity to the bathroom mirror urged him to just get it over with. Bruce snapped a picture and sent it, feeling excited and terrified beyond belief.

> Bruce

Darn... he was looking at the mirror instead of his phone. His eyes peering from behind the phone made him look like a deer caught in the headlights. Maybe John would find it endearing instead of pathetic.

Bruce paced as he waited for John’s reply. Is John going to up the ante? Send something a little more dangerous? Like... pulling part of his underwear down to expose his hip bone... thumb brushing against his— Bruce tensed up and paced faster. That would render him speechless, and if Bruce was to stick to his 1 for 1 code, it would mean he would have to match it, and then John would make it better (no, worse) so Bruce, then John — Bruce screamed internally, then realized his phone had been ringing. Wait, ringing?!

Bruce picked it up and tried to say “Hello,” but nothing came out.

“Brucie?” John’s voice asked as if trying to find him in the dark.

“Hfhh,” Bruce answered.

“Bruce! Holy shit,” John exclaimed, and Bruce could hear a thumping creak. He assumed John had fallen backward onto a mattress. John started speaking a mile a minute. “Holy SHIT you look amazing. So, so, good. Where did all those scars come from?! Are you a cage fighter? Is that how? Do they use knives in cage fights? God, you’re so strong, you could pick me up with one arm. That’s crazy! Oh, my God, Bruce, your abs, too, wow, WOW!” Bruce heard another loud creak. “I can’t believe you sent one back! You look so GOOD Bruce!” John caught his breath. “Sorry, buddy, I’m talking your ear off! Phone calls are hard, I can’t tell if someone else is gonna talk so I just keep going. Wow, I just can’t believe you even asked what I was WEARING! Where did THAT come from? I— I’m doing it again, just jump in whenever, sorry, I’m—hm? Oh, crap, one sec—“

Bruce became aware that John had set down the phone. He could barely process what John was saying. The barrage of compliments left him as worn out as a fist fight. He blinked and noticed that he had sat down on the floor of the bathroom at one point. So many compliments. It was too much. Suddenly, Harley’s voice was shouting in his ear.

“Who the fuck is this?!”

Bruce felt a chill of fear. Through the phone, he heard a scuffle and John grunting.

“I’ll find out anyway, so if ya ‘fess up now, maybe I’ll let you explain why _PUDS_ , HERE, is sitting in his FUCKING panties with his GODDAMN _COCK_ at _HALF MAST.”_ She turned away from the receiver to tell John to sit the fuck down. Bruce didn’t have time to sort his thoughts.

“It’s me, Harley, it’s Bruce,” he said. He heard a nervous giggle from John, but Harley had gone silent. “Harley, we were just talking, I don’t know why his — why he’s — why he’s hard,” Bruce stammered. Harley was still silent. Bruce heard the phone tap against what sounded like wood — a piece of furniture? — and then John was giggling again. The rest of the conversation was muffled, but audible:

“John?” Harley said sweetly.

John laughed in response.

“John,” Harley repeated menacingly.

“It’s— it’s embarrassing, Harley,” John said through a laugh. “I don’t want to say it in— in front of Bruce!”

As they spoke, Bruce was quietly getting dressed, unsure if he was on speaker through their end.

“Oh, you’ll say it in front of Bruce, and you’ll say it right now.” Bruce heard footsteps and the phone being moved. John’s nervous giggle was now in his ear. Harley must be holding the phone to him.

“I...” John swallowed. “I was... ...Harley, please don’t make me say it,” he pleaded, but Harley must have made some sort of threat because he went back to talking. “Bruce sent me a picture and it got me excited,” John muttered with shame.

Bruce flinched, then pulled his shoes on and tied them swiftly. He could hear John’s breathing quicken.

“So, Brucie-boy is hungry from some Puddin’,” Harley said.

“Harley, wait, I’ll show it to you,” John said. “I-It’s not his fault, I’m just— I’ll show you, please, it’s not his fault,” John begged, and Bruce started to sweat. Bruce heard what he assumed were John’s hands fumbling with the phone. After a few taps, John said, “See?” The phone was passed between hands. There was another stretch of silence.

“God, John...” Harley said, then the phone bounced on something soft and their voices sounded far away.

“I— I know, right?!” John was laughing again. “I just... I just get so...” He chuckled. “I mean, YOU remember.”

“Gave me a frickin’ heart attack,” Harley said, and then a door slammed shut.

Bruce exhaled deeply. He heard John pick up the phone.

“Hey,” John said, shaken.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“John, are you sure? I can come and get you right now, I’m already dressed.”

“No, don’t, seriously,” John cleared his throat. “Um. Maybe we’ll meet you there. Instead of you picking me up.”

“I’m still invited?” Bruce asked, surprised. “I thought Harley would—” He stopped and thought for a moment. “What did you show her?”

“Just the picture. Of your outfit. The one on the bed.”

“My...” Bruce trailed off and squinted. He was so, so confused. “She didn’t see the one of me in the towel? Or— or the one of you?”

“God, no, I deleted those right away,” John said, laughing.

Bruce felt a twinge of disappointment at John not wanting to keep it, but pushed the feeling away for the time being.

“Um... and... she believed... that the image of my outfit... was... stimulating? To you?”

“Y-yeah, uh...” John giggled nervously. “I mean, for the record, I lied,” John said matter-of-fact. “What REALLY happened was d-different, uh, and I hate lying, but I had to this time. It’s very abnormal for me. To lie. Just so you know.”

“I know, John, It’s alright,” Bruce said, trying to calm him down. “It’s just you and me. Take your time.” He could hear John’s deliberate inhales and exhales.

“Okay. Yeah.” John huffed. “I’m turned on by professors.”

Bruce blinked.

“What,” Bruce said articulately.

“It’s not unUSUAL, Bruce,” John said, suddenly heated.

“No, no, I know that’s a thing,” Bruce replied hurriedly. “Just—what does that have to do with—this??”

John let out a strangled groan away from the receiver. Bruce heard John mutter and caught the tail-end of it as John brought the phone back to his face. “ _—to spell it out._ Blazer. Sweater. Collar. Jeans.” The way John enunciated, Bruce could imagine John staring at him like Bruce was a dunce. “Professor. They’re professor clothes, Bruce.”

“Oh—okay—?” Bruce sighed, at a loss. He rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I can see how it looks professor-y, um... May I ask why Harley knows your... your interests? I thought you weren’t close enough to... to talk about stuff like that.” Bruce bit his lip.

“We’re not,” John said. “Not yet,” he added. “She just knows because of some movie we were watching. Not important. What IS important is you and I can still hang out!”

“Harley would forbid you from seeing me?” Bruce asked. “That’s pretty... controlling of her, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” John agreed, and he seemed pleased, though Bruce may have been imagining it. He decided to pry a little further.

“Do you think that means she likes you?” He didn’t even know what he wanted to hear. Hopefully John didn’t think a relationship like that was normal.

“She’s a controlling person,” John explained.

“Yeah, that’s true... but... she was really pissed to find you on the phone... with... you know.” Bruce bit the inside of his cheek, telling himself to drop it.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. She probably thought I was using her money on phone sex again.”

Bruce bit his cheek harder. He forced himself to focus on the first half of that response. Did John mean ‘Don’t worry, Harley’s only pissed at Me’ or ‘Don’t worry, Harley doesn’t like me that way’? But he also said ‘not yet’ earlier as if he were still _hoping_ Harley liked him that way...

“Anywho,” John said. “I should go. See you later?”

“Oh, yeah, um. Yeah. See you later, John.”


	11. Chapter 11

Bruce stared at his phone after he and John had hung up. That conversation was... a lot. He unlocked the phone and, after doing his best to memorize it, deleted John’s selfie. He deleted his own as well. Hopefully that one he could forget.

Bruce mulled over his and John’s call as he undressed, then put on his usual “undercover” outfit. Phone sex, huh... Bruce had tried that once or twice. Not really his thing, but he’d be willing to go for it again if that’s what John’s into. He didn’t like that John was doing it with strangers, but he understood why someone would use their money that way — Harley’s money, he corrected. Harley. Boy, was she pissed. Was anonymous phone sex really so expensive to warrant that anger? Maybe it was by-the-minute, and John liked to take his time. Bruce blushed at the thought. He hoped that the money really was the reason she was upset.

Still another two and a half hours until he had to leave for the Stacked Deck, since he was no longer picking up John. Time dragged by so slowly! Bruce put his “professor” outfit back in the closet, but he did take note of it, should he ever want to get John flustered.

 _Stop,_ Bruce thought. _Why are you assuming you and John are going to be so intimate? It’s not worth getting your hopes up._ Bruce sighed and argued back. _It could happen. Even if it wasn’t a relationship, we could mess around. That’s what I’ve always done, this isn’t any different._ Bruce began to pace. _It is definitely different, don’t kid yourself. This isn’t some guy across the ballroom of a charity event. This is a friend, a friend who knows YOU, not your stupid persona. He’s important._

Bruce stopped pacing to let out a frustrated growl. He was so sick of this. Part of him wished he could tell Waller to fuck off, tell the world he’s Batman, just let him live as himself for once in his life. But what would that accomplish?

Bruce put his hands on his hips and exhaled. May as well get the bat signal talk over and done with. Partly to pass the time, but mainly to escape his own inner monologue.

“Al, I’m fine to talk now,” Bruce said when he found Alfred in the garden. Alfred was reading another novel, enjoying the outdoors.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred replied, and bookmarked his novel. “Please, sit.” Bruce did so, and Alfred glanced over Bruce’s clothing. “Change your mind about my fashion sense?”

“It’s a...” long? weird? informative? “it’s a story,” Bruce said and ignored Alfred’s curious look. “I liked the outfit,” Bruce added. “Just not for tonight.”

“Hm.”

“M-hm.” Bruce avoided eye contact. “So, I missed the bat signal...” he prompted.

“Yes. And luckily, this time it wasn’t urgent; I was able to listen in on the police scanners and didn’t hear of any crimes that required Batman’s help. There was no news on it the next day, either.”

Bruce visibly relaxed. He had skimmed the news himself, but knew Alfred was always thorough.

“You were fortunate this time, but it’s still concerning,” Alfred continued. “Unreliability is not a good look for Batman. I’m surprised Commissioner Gordon hasn’t contacted you regarding your absence, come to think of it.” Alfred glanced at Bruce, who was looking timidly at his own lap. “This is a discussion, Bruce,” Alfred reminded him.

“Sorry,” Bruce said, sitting straighter. “I agree, it was irresponsible of me.” Bruce noticed that Alfred was waiting for him to continue. “And I, um... I did miss it because of John,” Bruce admitted. He fidgeted with a thread on his chair cushion. Alfred stayed silent. “And...” Bruce started, but wasn’t sure he wanted to finish his sentence.

“And you won’t let it happen again,” Alfred finished for him.

Bruce nodded. But...

“What if I’m inside somewhere and don’t see it?” Bruce asked.

“I’ll contact you when I see it, you know that.”

“But... what if I can’t make an excuse to leave when I’m undercover?” Bruce countered.

“I’m sure one of us will have an idea.”

“But... what if... what if I don’t want to answer the signal anymore?” Bruce said to his lap. He bit the inside of his cheek and already regretted saying it aloud.

Alfred was quiet.

“I...” Alfred sighed and shook his head. “I’ve honestly been wondering the same thing as of late.” He chuckled dryly. Bruce could hardly believe it.

“However,” Alfred said before Bruce could speak. “Perhaps we should discuss this further _after_ this business with the Agency is finished.” He extended a hand.

“Yeah... that’s fair,” Bruce said with a smile, and he gave Alfred’s hand a firm shake. After a moment, Bruce clapped his hands on his knees and stood up from his seat. “I think I’ll go for a drive. I need to kill some time before everyone gets to the bar,” he said. Alfred nodded and picked up his book.

“In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” As Bruce walked away, Alfred called out, “Make safe choices!”

* * *

After a meandering drive, Bruce arrived at the Stacked Deck. He was looking forward to being distracted from his racing thoughts. He got out of his car and noticed John on his way in to the bar, trailing behind the rest of the Pact. Bruce jogged up quietly and tapped John on the shoulder, then ducked to the other side when John glanced. John whipped his head around and his face lit up when he saw Bruce.

“Bruce!” he said excitedly, and immediately hugged him tight.

“Hey,” Bruce replied, giving John a quick pat on the back and pulling away.

“Wow, you smell good,” John said with a big smile.

“Thanks, I...” was hoping that you would like it, he finished in his head. “Thanks.”

“C’mon, I think they already sat down,” John said, and rushed inside.

Bruce followed him in. The Stacked Deck was dim and dingy as usual, but the more Bruce visited, the more he came to enjoy it. It was an interesting feeling. Everyone there knew him by his public persona, but they didn’t seem to expect him to be formal or suave. By now, they were more likely to expect him to get in a fight.

John was waving him over, even though he was directly in Bruce’s line of sight. Bruce sat down next to him and nodded in greeting to Victor, Harley, and Bane. Bruce felt just a little out of place as he was the only one who wore his normal clothing. Victor was wearing an oversized trench coat and a wide scarf. Bruce figured that Victor was trying to hide most of his coldsuit, but wasn’t sure why he bothered since the glowing parts of his suit were still visible. He wondered if Victor needed the red goggles or if he just liked them. Harley’s outfit, still red and black, was more casual and her makeup was different — same shade of lipstick, but instead of the large black diamonds over her eyes, she had opted for dark eyeshadow. Bane had actually taken off his lucha mask, and his hair was surprisingly long and wavy. He still wore a tank top and pants but had removed the usual gloves and belt. John wore his normal slacks and top, yet had no vest and wore suspenders. His shirt was askew as usual, but he had rolled both sleeves instead of the usual mismatch.

“Well, don’t you all look nice,” Bruce said smoothly. Excluding John, who beamed, they all looked like they were waiting for a punchline. “What? I’m serious,” Bruce said with a shrug.

“Shut up,” Harley said, but she smirked a little.

“Why the same outfit for you?” Bane asked Bruce, gesturing at his regular leather jacket and cap. “We thought you would get dressed up, show your wealth.” Bane glanced back at Victor and Harley and chuckled.

“Didn’t want to take the spotlight,” Bruce joked.

“Orders?” a waitress asked the table as she set down cocktail napkins and a couple of paper menus.

“Cerveza,” Bane grunted. “A pitcher.”

“Whiskey Coke,” Harley said as she picked up one of the menus, then jabbed a finger at an item. “And some of these jalapeño poppers.”

“I’d like a margarita. Frozen,” Victor said.

“A hurricane for me. Extra cherries,” John said.

“Just a beer,” Bruce said. The waitress nodded and went back to the bar to get their drinks.

Everyone avoided eye contact. Bruce was hoping they would be a bit more lively... instead it was like no one wanted to be here at all. Whose idea was this, anyway?

“So, what’s the occasion?” Bruce asked.

“No occasion,” Bane replied. “A strategy, maybe. To raise morale.”

“Spirits raise spirits,” Victor said, partly to himself. John giggled.

Bruce figured it was reason enough, but had hoped it would spark some conversation. The waitress brought their drinks by and told Harley her food would be another few minutes. They all sipped their respective drinks awkwardly. Well, everyone but John, who seemed as if he was just pretending to be awkward to fit in with the rest of them. He was smiling to himself as if they were all playing follow the leader or something.

“Um... I’ll be back, gonna use the bathroom,” Bruce said, though he really just wanted to escape for a moment. He stood up, then John bust out laughing.

“Under five minutes, pay up,” Harley said, leaning back smugly. Victor and Bane begrudgingly pulled out ten dollars each and threw the bills her way. John slid his bill across the table, still giggling. Bruce blinked.

“Were you guys betting on when I’d have to piss?” Bruce asked incredulously. John laughed louder.

“No,” Victor said, chuckling a little himself. “The bet included any excuse to leave the table. Harley got a little extra for accuracy, though.” He chuckled harder and Harley grinned.

“What can I say? The guy’s predictable,” she said.

“Alright, you got me,” Bruce said with his hands up. “I do have to go, though,” he lied, trying to save face. Bruce smiled in spite of himself and walked to the restrooms in the back.

When Bruce went in, he sighed and leaned against the wall, figuring he’d wait a few minutes and come back out. He was a little embarrassed, but ultimately felt flattered that they knew him well enough to make a bet like that.

Bruce came out of the bathroom. On his way to the table, he noticed a bit of a commotion near the entrance. It looked like a group of women wearing pink feather boas. One of the larger employees was blocking them from entering. Odd.

“What’s going on over there?” Bruce asked the group as he sat back down.

“Bachelorette party,” Bane said, succinct as always.

“I think that guy is telling them to leave,” John said with a grin. He was leaning back to see them better. “Think there’ll be a fight?”

“I swear to God, if someone comes over here asking for a selfie or a condom or some bullshit...” Harley muttered. John perked up at her comment.

“Oh! A selfie! I almost forgot!” John said, pulling out his phone and getting everyone in frame. “Smile, guys!” His phone flashed obnoxiously. “Crap, I had burst mode on,” John said, rubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly. He swiped through the photos and shrugged. “Got a couple good ones anyway,” he said with a thumbs-up to the group.

“Send me one, Puds,” Harley said, and she snacked on her jalapeño poppers. “I gotta have photo evidence of Bane’s ‘do.”

Bane set down his pitcher of beer, which he was drinking directly out of. “I did it especially for you, Harley,” he said with a wink. He laughed heartily when both Harley and John scowled at him.

Bruce took a sip of his (bottled) beer and checked the front again. Didn’t look like anyone was getting violent. He watched until the argument died down and the women left.

“Ah... there they go,” Victor said, sipping some of his margarita. “A shame. I enjoy people-watching, and they certainly looked interesting.” He turned to Harley. “You seem to know what goes on during a bachelorette party.”

Harley raised an eyebrow. “Yep,” she said, chewing on another popper. She sighed when she saw them all staring at her expectantly. “I need to get some girl friends,” she said to herself. “You just get drunk, dare each other to ask strangers for their phone numbers and stuff. Ya been to one, ya been to ‘em all. Fun, though.” She shrugged and took one of John’s cherries.

“Dare, huh?” John said with a mischievous smile. “We should all play truth or dare!”

“Pass,” Harley said immediately. John wilted.

“How about just dare?” Bruce suggested. He hated seeing John look so disappointed.

“Heh, could be interesting,” Bane said, rubbing his chin. “I accept.”

“As do I,” Victor said. He chuckled at John’s increasingly excited expressions. John clasped his hands as if to beg to Harley.

“God. Fine,” she said, downing the rest of her drink. “Brucie, drink up. Gotta use your bottle to spin.”

Bruce took a few gulps and John started chanting “chug,” which made him laugh and spill a little. He finished off the rest and placed the bottle between everyone.

“Another beer, please,” Bruce said to the waitress, who was walking by. “John, you should spin since it was your idea.” John did a fist pump and spun the bottle. It landed on Victor.

“Ooh, let’s see. Hmm...” John tapped his chin and glanced around the table. He picked up a cherry. “I dare you to tie this in a knot!”

“Simple,” Victor said. He ate the cherry and then started to tie the stem into a knot.

“What?! No, you can’t use your hands! You have to tie it in your mouth,” John said.

“...No longer simple,” Victor muttered and placed the stem in his mouth. He moved his jaw around a bit and stuck out his tongue to reveal a broken stem. “Di’ I ge’ i’?”

“Boooo,” Bane said.

“Darn. Do I spin now?” Victor asked, reaching for the bottle tentatively.

“Hold it,” Harley said. “You couldn’t do it, take a drink.”

Victor complied and spun the bottle, which landed on Bruce.

“I dare Bruce...” Victor smirked. “...to cover the bill.”

Bruce set his forehead on the table in silent defeat as Victor gave everyone but Bruce a fist bump. When the waitress came by with Bruce’s second beer, they all ordered food, suddenly hungry now that Bruce was paying.

“Shall we get a tray of shots?” Victor asked the table.

“Hell yeah,” Harley said. “Alright, new rule: can’t do the dare, take a shot.”

“You guys have it out for my wallet,” Bruce said, but he was grinning. He spun the bottle and it landed on Bane. Shit, now he had to think of something. He took a swig of beer to buy some time. “Uhh... I dare Bane to let John braid his hair.”

“No.” Bane took a shot.

“...Did you just want a shot?” Bruce asked.

“Yes.” Bane spun the bottle. It landed on himself. “I dare myself to take another shot.” He laughed at John, who was shouting at him to re-spin. “I’m kidding,” he said, and re-spun. It landed on Victor.

“Me again?”

“You again. I dare you to eat a jalapeño.”

“And who says I’m sharing?” Harley asked.

“I say it. If Victor takes the dare,” Bane said, smirking at them both.

“You know I hate spice,” Victor said. He held a popper to his mouth and muttered “why do both of mine involve eating?” He sniffed the food, gagged, set down the popper and took a shot. “I’m not ashamed,” he said in response to Bane’s triumphant laughter. He spun the bottle and it landed on Harley.

“Choose wisely, Vic,” Harley warned.

“I dare Harley to get a stranger’s cell phone number,” he said.

“Very original. Maybe we shoulda skipped your second turn,” she said, but looked around the bar. It had been filling up, so there was a good number to pick from. “Gonna go for her.” Harley pointed to a red-haired woman and walked over.

“Think she can do it?” Bane asked, watching as Harley approached the woman.

“Even if she can’t, her consequence is equally fun,” Victor said, and sneakily took a sip of one of the shots.

“I didn’t know Harley even liked girls,” Bruce added.

“Who wouldn’t?” John replied.

“Fair.”

They all watched as Harley walked back. She sat down, looking cocky, and waved a cocktail napkin that had something written on it. With a flourish, she laid it down for everyone to see. On it was written “Fuck off.” Harley bowed gracefully and slammed a shot. “I think I’m in love,” she swooned, then spun the bottle, which landed on John. “I dare John,” she said with a devilish smile, “to ask that guy for a condom.” Harley pointed at the man near the door who had previously stopped the bachelorette party from entering.

“Very original,” Victor mocked.

“Shut up, I couldn’t think of any,” Harley said, punching his shoulder lightly.

John shakily got up from his seat, then took a breath, trying to look confident. He snapped his suspenders (a little too hard, it seemed, as he winced) and made his way to the employee.

Bruce took another swig of his beer as he ogled John’s ass. Oops. Hopefully he didn’t linger too long. He blamed the alcohol.

They were all quiet, watching John as he meekly stood next to the man who towered over him. The man put his hands on his hips and looked John up and down.

“Oh, man, maybe I shouldn’t have dared him,” Harley said, recording John on her phone and grinning.

Bruce saw John tense up a little as the employee stepped closer to John. Bruce was about to stand up, but saw the man lift John’s hand and hold it for a moment. John stepped away backwards with a wave, and when he turned around his face was red.

“What happened?” Bruce asked.

“I, uh... I got his number,” John said, trembling as he lifted his hand, which had a phone number written on it in pen. Victor gasped in disbelief. “And he said I can get a condom from him later.” Bane howled with laughter and slapped John on the back. John snorted and covered his face, which was almost scarlet.

“Very good, John,” Bane said, still laughing.

“Oh my God,” Harley laughed. “Well, should we count it, boys?”

Bruce took a gulp of beer, trying to hide any signs of jealousy. He set down the emptied bottle. “I don’t think so — he didn’t get a condom, did he?”

“But he might later,” Victor said.

“Half a shot?” Bane suggested. Harley mulled it over and nodded. John took half a shot.

There was a moment of silence.

Harley eyed the tray of remaining shots and glanced around the table. “Wanna get wasted?”

Everyone grabbed a glass and drank up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this chapter is LONK so I’m stopping it here since it seemed like a decent end point. John is gonna take some pics of everyone so expect illustrations in the next chapter ^_^ They may be more cartoony this time, though, just so it doesn’t take me forever :P  
> Just want to add THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who has commented!! What the heck!! Y’all are so freakin’ nice!! I reread them a lot... is that weird? No matter. I am very flattered U__U


	12. Chapter 12

After the group ordered a third tray of shots, Bruce got up to use the bathroom (for real this time). He stumbled a littlewhen he pushed open the door.

_Jeez... Have I had that much already?_ Bruce thought, shaking his head. He unzipped his fly to use the urinal. _I hope this becomes a regular thing. Who would have thought..._ He zipped and went to the sink to wash his hands. Bruce stared at himself in the mirror. _This isn’t just for fun. Intel gathering. Gonna find some intel and gather it._ He nodded at his reflection. _You’re not going to remember much, are you?_ He shook his head at his reflection. Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the earpieces that he normally wore to speak with Alfred. He put it in his ear and set it to record, just in case anyone said anything interesting.

Bruce leaned over the sink to stare at the water go down the drain. It was taking awhile. Sink must be clogged. He blinked dazedly, wondering if it was a mistake to get so drunk... but it was so much fun... Bruce glanced into the mirror and saw that John was standing behind him.

“Oh, shit,” Bruce said, standing up straight only to stumble again. “Hey. Uh. I didn’t hear you come in.”

John’s face was tinged pink, and one of his suspenders was looser than the other, like he had been fiddling with it.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked. He felt himself starting to fade.

John practically fell forward to hug Bruce, who had to lean against the sink to stay up. He heard John mumble something against his chest.

“John...” He awkwardly petted John’s hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.” That or he had already forgotten.

“I saw Harley...” John repeated, looking up at Bruce through watery eyes. “I saw her go off and kiss that lady from earlier.” He pressed his face back into Bruce’s chest.

“Hey... it’s okay, John,” Bruce said, stroking John’s back.

John was starting to relax. Bruce could feel him taking a deep breath.

“You _really_ smell good,” John murmured, nuzzling into Bruce’s chest. Something about the slight growl in John’s voice made Bruce blush. Bruce continued to rub John’s back, scolding himself for being turned on when John was coming to him for comfort. He figured he should break it up while he still had his wits about him. Probably wouldn’t be much longer.

“All good?” Bruce asked, pulling away. How long were they hugging?

“Yeah. Thanks, buddy.” John smiled shyly, and Bruce felt his heart skip.

“God, you’re cute,” Bruce thought. ...He _thought_ he thought. Did he think that thought or did he just _think_ he thought it?

John stared at him in shock. Shit.

* * *

Bruce faded in and was aware he was speaking to Bane and Victor, but was forgetting what he was saying as he spoke. There were empty glasses everywhere. Bruce faded out.

Faded in again. Harley was handing him a paper bag with a bottle in it. It was cold outside. John had taken his jacket. Out again.

In. He and John were holding each other upright, reaching for a door. Out.

* * *

Bruce groaned and squinted. He fumbled for a remote on his nightstand and pressed a button to shade all the windows in his bedroom. Nightstand... bedroom... when did he get home? Wait, what time is it now? God, his head was killing him. Bruce turned gingerly as to not jostle his head. He pushed himself up a little to see the clock and yelped upon seeing John lying there next to him.

Bruce clapped a hand over his mouth and scanned the room. Shoes had been kicked off near the bedroom door. He could see his jacket and hat from where he was sitting. John’s pants, the suspenders still attached, were near the bed. Bruce’s were next to them. Bruce peeked under the sheets and saw they were both still wearing underwear, and John had one of Bruce’s t-shirts on. John stirred and Bruce flopped his head back on the pillow, prepared to shut his eyes again, but John just muttered something and kept sleeping.

Bruce gently slid the sheets off of himself and crept out of bed, tip-toeing to get his phone out of his pants pocket. According to his phone, it was noon. He checked his texts. Nothing from Alfred, but Bruce had sent him a text around 4:30 am that said “sry home lusm dnd lol.” Nothing from Waller, either, thank God. He had about 10 messages from John — most of them were photos, and the rest had so many typos that they weren’t readable. He scrolled through the images.

> Everything was so fuzzy... He zoomed in on the one of himself and Harley kissing John’s cheeks, absently wondering if he could crop Harley out and make it look natural. Bruce saw his earpiece in the picture and remembered that he had everything recorded.

Bruce was shocked to find that his earpiece was still in his ear. He thought he would have taken it out before he slept, if not in his sleep. Bruce sat back on his bed, figuring John was so knocked out he could risk it. Bruce pressed “play” on the earpiece.

_“God, you’re cute.”_

_There was a pause, then a shuffle of fabric, a grunt from Bruce and a long silence. A shared, shuddered breath._

_John’s shaking laugh, cut off suddenly. Another pause, broken by a kiss, a gasp and a knock against ceramic. More stilted breaths. A quiet moan from John, answered with a groan from Bruce._

_“John... Did you want this from the start?”_

_“Yes. Did you?”_

_“Yes. Asshole.”_

_“Coward.”_

_Another laugh, stopped by kiss after kiss after kiss. John inhaling sharply._

_“Good?”_

_“Very.”_

_A squeak and the sound of a door swinging open._

_Silence._

_From far away, “Lo siento.” Door closing. Laughter._

_“We should leave so Bane can do his business.”_

_“Probably. Want to split a hurricane?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Shoes hitting the floor. Footsteps._

Bruce stopped playback. He laid his head against his bent knees. Of course. Of course he couldn’t remember his and John’s first kiss. Bruce bit his lip. He would listen to the rest of the night later. For now he had to know what happened when he and John got to the manor. Bruce fast-forwarded.

_A door opening and knocking against a wall, causing an echo._

_“It’s okay, just be quiet.”_

_Echoing footsteps. Door slamming shut._

_“Shh.”_

_“Shh!”_

_“SHH!”_

_Laughter._

_Footsteps becoming more careless. Covered-mouth giggles. Another door opening and closing. Clambering of shoes being slipped off and hitting the ground. Shifting of fabric, clinking of metal, clothing dropping to the floor. Silence cut by breathy kisses. Hands running over skin and through hair. The creak of the bed. The slip of silk sheets underneath. A quavering exhale. Slow, sucking kisses right next to Bruce’s ear. Moans unable to be held in._

_“Bruce...”_

_“Mmnh...?”_

_A tender kiss on the cheek._

_“Wake me when you’re sober.”_


	13. Chapter 13

Bruce stopped playback. John didn’t continue... and he was still here next to him. He smiled to himself and hugged his knees. Too bad they missed the sunrise.

Bruce figured, he’s sober now, and John told him to wake him up, so... Bruce started prodding John in various places until John awoke with a snort.

“Hi,” Bruce said.

John blinked bleary eyes and didn’t respond. He tried to swallow and then smacked at the roof of his mouth with his tongue, making disgusted faces as he did so. His hair was flat on one side and he had left some drool on Bruce’s pillow. He was beautiful.

“Hi,” John replied, voice raw. He pulled at his (Bruce’s) shirt. “I think I took this out of your closet.” He sniffed it. “Or maybe the laundry basket.”

“That’s okay.” Bruce took a moment to admire how big his shirt looked on John. He had so many things to say, but he didn’t know how to start. He almost wished he was tipsy again, just so he wouldn’t second-guess everything.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind, buddy,” John said. “What’s going on in there? Need me to play therapist?”

Bruce set his chin on his knees and smirked. “Is my inner turmoil really so obvious?”

“As plain as the nose on your face,” John said, and poked Bruce’s nose with a “boop!” Bruce rubbed his nose and smiled.

“I could use some therapy, yeah.”

John mimed flipping a legal pad and clicking a pen. “Ready when you are.”

“First off,” Bruce leaned against the headboard, “is it unusual that seeing you pretend to write stuff down is making me feel better?”

John looked up from his “notes” to shake his head and grin. Bruce chuckled, then cleared his throat.

“I, um... I don’t remember much of last night. I kind of thought I wouldn’t, so I used a recorder. And that’s how I learned that we, um. That we kissed.”

John mimed setting down his notepad and pretended to take off a pair of glasses. He looked troubled.

“I wanted to,” Bruce said when he noticed John’s expression. “I did want to. Really. I just don’t remember the kiss itself.”

“How does that make you feel?” John asked with true concern.

“It is so bizarre that this is helping,” Bruce muttered. He let out a breath. “I... feel... like shit.” He gave John a tight-lipped smile. “I like you. A lot. And I screwed up our first kiss by drinking too much.”

John placed a comforting hand on Bruce’s back. “You didn’t screw it up,” John said, and patted Bruce. “I was drunk, too, you know.”

Bruce waited a beat, then mimed picking up the notepad and pen that John had pretended to set down earlier. He “clicked” the pen. John snorted.

“This is dumb,” John laughed.

“Yeah,” Bruce said with a smile. “So, what are _you_ thinking?”

John laid down with his hands behind his head. “I’m thinking about how I rubbed my butt against your junk when I was sober, but I couldn’t get myself to kiss you until I was drunk. What’s up with that?”

Bruce shrugged. “It is a bit... unorthodox. But I liked it.”

John looked pleased with himself. Then his expression turned pensive. “I’m also thinking...” He huffed. “I dunno.”

“What’s the matter?” Bruce asked.

John closed his eyes. “I’m sorry that I’m so weird,” he said quietly.

Bruce moved from leaning on the headboard to lay down next to John. He gently pulled on John’s shoulder to encourage him to turn. When John was facing him, Bruce stroked John’s cheek. “That’s one of my favorite things about you,” Bruce said.

John leaned into Bruce’s touch and smiled, eyes shining with affection. John wiggled forward, pushing himself under Bruce’s arm. Bruce chuckled and tugged John close, holding him tight.

John let out a happy hum against Bruce’s chest. “If it’s okay with you,” John said, “could we try a not-drunk kiss?” John pulled back enough to peer up at Bruce. “Maybe?” he added, giving his best puppy-eyes.

“Hmm...” Bruce kissed the top of John’s head. “Good?”

“Close, but no cigar,” John said. Bruce kissed John’s forehead. “Warmer.” His nose. “Warmer...” His chin. “Colder.” His cheek. “Stop it!” John said in mock anger.

Bruce grinned and placed his forehead against John’s, looking into his eyes. Bruce lifted John’s chin slightly, smiling when he saw John wet his lips with anticipation. Bruce lifted John’s chin further and leaned in, giving a delicate closed-mouth kiss. When Bruce broke it, John gripped the back of Bruce’s neck and pulled him in for more. Bruce broke it again to take a breath.

“Can I use tongue?” John asked quickly, already moving close to kiss again.

“Ye—” he was cut off by the kiss, and he let John’s tongue in to swipe across his own. Bruce moaned as John pressed himself as close as possible, running his hands through Bruce’s hair and kissing him ferociously. He moved to straddle Bruce’s hips, kissing along Bruce’s jawline as he did so.

“Am I doing okay?” John asked timidly, holding himself up above Bruce.

“You—you’re doing great,” Bruce said, and John smiled brightly in response. “Why are you worried? Didn’t you tell me you had lots of experience?”

“Yeah, I do. I just didn’t care until now,” he said. “Hey, put your hands up here.” He patted the space above Bruce’s head.

Bruce did as he was told. John laced his fingers in Bruce’s and leaned down to Bruce’s neck, nipping and sucking it. Bruce inhaled sharply at a particularly rough bite, his hands squeezing John’s involuntarily. John sat up with a jolt.

“Sorry! Was that too hard?”

Bruce shook his head, blushing. John raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. He moved back and sucked at the last bite until he could clamp on the skin and nip it. Bruce held tighter to John’s hands, shuddering with pleasure. John softly kissed the bruise that was already appearing and sat back to see Bruce panting beneath him.

“Ooh, you definitely liked that,” John purred. He gripped Bruce’s wrists again and gave him a long, slow kiss. “You look really hot,” John murmured between kisses. “All bashful, riled up for me.” John arched his back and stretched, moaning low when his and Bruce’s clothed groins touched. His eyes fluttered shut as he rolled his hips forward and back against Bruce.

“John...” Bruce breathed. He wriggled his hands free from John’s grasp and stroked down John’s back to grab his ass. John gasped and pressed against Bruce’s touch. He wrapped his arms under Bruce to grind harder against him, biting into Bruce’s neck as he did so. Bruce hissed and bucked, groaning as John left marks all over his neck and jaw. Bruce felt electrified by each graze of John’s teeth, each bit of pressure of his fingers on his back. John stole a kiss and pulled down his boxer briefs, hands shaking. Bruce made to remove his own boxers, but John stopped him, scooting back to peel them off on his own, watching as Bruce’s cock sprang free. His expression was one of pure ecstasy.

“Jeez, I’m gonna drool,” John laughed. He took a moment to look over Bruce, who was sweating, gripping the sheets to keep from touching himself. John swallowed. “Wow. Mind if I—?” He was holding his phone, about to take a picture.

“No! I mean, yes, I mind!” Bruce sputtered.

“Aw...” John laid his head against Bruce’s thigh. “What if I cropped out Junior here?”

“Please don’t call it that,” Bruce said weakly. He flinched when John swirled his tongue along his inner thigh, then gasped when John nipped at the same spot. “John, you are killing me,” Bruce wheezed as John continued to tease. “Wait, are you seriously touching yourself right now?” he asked, then muttered “not fair. So not fair.”

“What’s stopping you, Brucie?” John asked with a grin. “We’ve gotten this far and you’re torturing yourself! It’s not like I handcuffed you.”

“I, um... I guess... I’d rather watch you do it,” Bruce said, biting his lip.

“Oh.” John blushed. “Time-out. Should I make you beg? Would that be bad or do you want that?”

“John, I really appreciate that you’re thinking this through, but God, I need you to touch me right now.”

“Nope, still time-out,” John said, which made Bruce groan in response. “If you didn’t like seeing me on top, you’d push me off. I know you could.” He smiled. “How about you tell me what to do? I want to make you feel good.”

“I...” Bruce exhaled. “God. I want you to suck me off,” Bruce said shakily, embarrassed to voice it.

“Okie-dokie.” John licked along the base of Bruce’s cock, then wrapped his lips around the tip and smiled as Bruce bucked into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the head, then pressed his tongue on the underside, relishing the moans from Bruce.

“Just like that...” Bruce panted. He strained his neck a little to look down at John, and let out a groan when he saw John staring straight at him. “Yes... keep looking at me,” Bruce gasped. “Oh, my God, John,” he whispered, then threw his head back in pleasure when John cupped and groped his balls. He whined, body tense and heaving at every movement of John’s tongue and hands. John hummed and sucked, stroking himself as he watched Bruce writhe. Both of their thrusts became more and more erratic, John’s whines muffled by Bruce’s cock, but Bruce panting and grunting loud enough for them both. “I’m close,” he said, thrusting hard against John’s throat. John choked a little but he didn’t seem to mind. Bruce keened and thrust one last time, coming down John’s throat, gasping as John swallowed until he was spent. John finished himself off at the sight of Bruce’s bliss, coming with a strangled groan, his semen spattering on his shirt.

“Crap... sorry,” John said, looking down at the shirt with a grimace.

Bruce swallowed and moved his hair off his face, trying to cool down. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, then let out a long breath. “C’mere.”

John scooched up next to him and received a sweet kiss. “You stink,” John said, smiling.

“I’ll shower in a sec.” he pulled John close, stroking his arm. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“‘Bout time.” John laid his head against Bruce’s chest and nuzzled it. “Selfie for posterity?” He already had his phone positioned above them.

“Sure,” Bruce said with a smirk, then kissed John’s cheek when he took the picture.

John hugged Bruce tight. “Awkward question... but... should we keep this between us?”

“Oh, uh... well... I don’t know. Did you want to?” Bruce chewed the inside of his cheek. “Because... I wouldn’t mind people knowing. Just so you know.”

“I dunno... it’s kind of exciting...” John stroked Bruce’s chest absent-mindedly, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “And I know Bane won’t tell anyone that he saw us.”

Bruce couldn’t deny that they would have some fun that way...

“Alright,” Bruce said. “We can keep it secret. For now.” He kissed the top of John’s head. “I want to be open about it eventually, though.”

“Like... we’d be boyfriends?”

“God, that sounds so strange. We’re in our thirties.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“It is pretty cute.” Bruce smiled. “And yeah, I’d like that.”

John sat up. “We should seriously shower now.” His face dropped. “Does Alfred do your laundry?”

“Um... usually, but. I’ll take care of it.”

“If he sees you, he’s totally gonna know. Is that okay?”

“I’m sure he already guessed.”

John smiled in relief. “Good. Then I can be as clingy as I want.” John kissed Bruce’s cheek and hopped off the bed to take a shower. “I know you’re looking at my butt,” he said, and bent over to stare at Bruce between his legs, then stood to start the water.

Bruce snorted and gathered the sheets off the bed. Already one in the afternoon. He’d have to take John back soon... keeping this secret was going to be difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Was difficult. Any criticism is truly welcome. O_X  
> Edited to add a pic :D


	14. Chapter 14

After each of them had showered, Bruce and John walked to the car so John could go home. The ride went by too quickly. If Bruce didn’t have to go over the recordings, he would have gladly taken John out somewhere else to spend more time together. At least they got to hold hands during the ride over.

When John got out of the car, he waved jovially, then glanced around himself to check that no one saw before he blew Bruce a kiss. Bruce chuckled and winked, then drove off.

Bruce parked in the Batcave. He was surprised to find that Alfred was there at the computer, as if he had been waiting.

“Hey, what are you down here alone for?” Bruce asked as he walked up the stairs to the computer’s platform.

“Good afternoon,” Alfred said pointedly.

“Oop, um... good afternoon,” Bruce replied awkwardly. Alfred smiled.

“I appreciated the text this morning.” Alfred pulled out his phone. “But... what does l-u-s-m mean? Is that an acronym or a typo?”

“Acronym, yeah,” Bruce chuckled a bit. “It means ‘love you so much.’”

“Oh, how sweet. I love you, too.” He looked back at the phone and adjusted his glasses. “I thought that was what l-o-l meant. Is that not ‘lots of love?’”

“No, that one is ‘laughing out loud.’”

“Ah, yes. Of course. And d-n-d?”

“Thaaat one... is...” Bruce sighed. Sometimes he wondered if Alfred just found it fun to embarrass him. “‘Do not disturb.’”

“I see.” Alfred’s mouth twitched up at the corner. Bruce stopped himself from saying ‘I knew it!’ “Well. I can’t say I’m not happy for you; although it would be nice if, next time, you and John wipe your shoes before prancing through the house.” He wrinkled his nose. “Awful smell when I began to clean up. I must ask, did you two take a romantic stroll through a sewer?”

Bruce rubbed his neck. “Maybe...? I sure hope not.” Bruce shuddered at the thought of running into Killer Croc while he was drunk. He noticed Alfred’s befuddled expression. “I, uh... I say that because I sort of blacked out...” Bruce winced, but Alfred stayed quiet. Disturbingly so. “I have a recording?” Bruce fished in his pocket for the earpiece. “And I was going to listen, and learn what I missed?” Yet again, Bruce felt like he had reverted to his teenage years. He’d really like that to stop happening.

“Bruce...” Alfred sighed as he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head and replaced his glasses. “You don’t need me to tell you off,” Alfred said, and it seemed like he was trying to convince himself rather than reassure Bruce. “I’m just going to leave you to it, and I’ll be back later with a meal.” Alfred stood from the computer chair and turned it to face Bruce. Then he walked away.

That felt just as bad as, if not worse than, a lecture.

Bruce slumped in the computer chair, trying to drive out of his mind Alfred’s look of utter disappointment. So much for making safe choices. Bruce plugged in the earpiece and downloaded the audio files of the night, setting the computer to automatically remove dead air. He skipped through his and John’s... exchange, just in case Alfred came back in. Bruce realized that they may have kissed more than once last night. He hurriedly put on some headphones and pressed play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been having a hard time keeping this chapter interesting. To avoid posting EVEN LATER I figured I should put this bit up just to have an update, already! Sheesh! Because of that, consider this a part 1 — the next chapter will start right where it left off.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bat signal? Quel Bat signal?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381807) by [PhotoKoisheep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhotoKoisheep/pseuds/PhotoKoisheep)




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